Shelter
by Timelessdemon
Summary: His Grandpa dead and his Granma in a care home, 14 year old Arnold takes to running away and living on the streets to avoid social services taking him into foster care. But alone on the streets without a friend to turn to, how long can Arnold really expect to last? Contains mentions of drugs. A continuation of previous story, Nice Guys Finish Last.


**This is meant as an continuation of a Hey Arnold story I previously wrote called 'Nice Guys Finish Last', but can be also be read as a stand alone fic. Enjoy!**

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 **Present day: Sunset at the city park:**

His stomach complaining loudly, a fourteen year old Arnold took a small trial bite out of his chocolate bar before instantly regretting it and spitting it back out into the waste bin next to him. Shivering as he sat down on the rusted metal park bench, Arnold drew into himself, he could feel his own ribs, he knew he needed to eat something but he just couldn't. Whatever drugs he'd spent the last few years taking had made their mark and now he had to force himself to eat anything just to keep going.

As optimistic as he used to be, Arnold had really begun to wonder what he had left to live for, his Grandpa had died a week earlier and social services had taken away Granma, his Granma who couldn't even remember his name, let alone that she even had a Grandson.

The wind grew colder as the sun continued to dip in the sky, and Arnold huddled even deeper into himself, terrified for what might happen during what would now be his fifth night on the streets, but determined that he wasn't going back home.

There was no home without his Grandparents, all there was, was an empty boarding house with a couple of social services people waiting for him.

Barely a day after his Grandpa's funeral, social services had begun to look into Arnold's living arrangements, obviously unhappy with finding an fourteen year old living in a run-down boarding house, battling between attending school, caring for his Granma and fighting his own drug addiction, they'd decided to intervene.

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 **The boarding house kitchen: A day after Granpa's funeral:**

Arnold bit his lip, holding back the tears, as his Granma once again asked where Grandpa was. "He's upstairs", Arnold answered, trying his hardest to get used to this little white lie as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

Gertie smiled, "Oh well then there's no need to look so sad 'Adam', he'll be right down in a minute".

Arnold gave a sad smile to her, "Thanks".

Gertie extended a hand, gently stroking Arnold's slightly ragged hair, "You know you remind me of my son Miles, do you know him at all?". Arnold nodded, "Something like that". Granma moved her hand back, quietly thinking to herself, "Old school friend were you?".

Arnold opened his mouth to answer but abruptly closed it again, as he heard the doorbell ring. Gertie frowned as she rose to get up, "Oh, now who can that be?". Arnold put his hand on his Granma's shoulder "No, no, you stay there, I'll get it".

His Granma smiled brightly, "Oh, such a gentleman!".

Quickly and quietly making his way out of the kitchen and downstairs, Arnold slunk to the front door, putting his eye up to the peephole, a formally dressed man and woman, both in their forties, stood there waiting to be let in. Against his better judgement Arnold slowly opened the door, poking his head around the corner, "Hey".

The woman smiled politely, "Oh hi there, are you Arnold Shortman?".

Arnold hesitated before answering, "Who wants to know?".

The woman continued to smile as she extended a hand to shake, "Hi, my name is Jane, this is Harvey and we're from social services-".

Arnold's eyes widened, he moved to slam the door but obviously not fast enough. Harvey quickly put his foot in, preventing it from closing, before placing a hand on the door to push it open once more. "This is a mistake", Arnold grunted, trying with all his might to push the door closed once more, "You've got the wrong place!".

"Arnold? Who's downstairs?" At hearing his Granma say his name for the first time in months, Arnold let go of the door in surprise, Harvey quickly took the chance to slink inside, heading upstairs, towards the sound of Gertie still talking.

Arnold glared upstairs as he could hear Harvey introduce himself to Gertie, before turning to glance at Jane who was now stood next to him, "Arnold, are you ok with the name Arnold? Would you be able to show me around the boarding house?".

Arnold knew they were purposefully keeping him and his Granma separate but currently there was not much he could do about it, nodding, he led her around the house.

The guided tour had been quite unpleasant with Jane asking questions about the kitchen such as; Who cooked? Why are all the lighters were hidden away? Could his Granma cook on her own? It had gotten much worse when Jane had entered his own room and rooted around, quickly finding his 'narcotics', he'd told her he'd never seen them before but somehow he figured she didn't believe him.

After that they'd sat together at a table, Jane and Harvey on one side, Arnold and his Granma on the other.

Jane had smiled sweetly to Arnold, telling him that while he was doing such a great job looking after his Granma, he needed to go to school and that also his narcotic use was a cause for concern.

Arnold had quickly given up trying to deny his drug use after Jane had pointed out the trac marks strewn mostly across his left arm. The way she'd talked made it sound as if he had some kind of a choice in the matter, but he knew there was none. His Granma was to be sent to a nearby home for the elderly and he would be sent to an foster care home several hours away from Hillwood city.

Feeling trapped Arnold had just panicked, Jane and Harvey had told Arnold to pack a few things for himself while they helped Gertie pack, Arnold had given his Granma a quick final hug and kiss before going to pack. Unsurprisingly, ten minutes later when Jane came to get him, Arnold was already long gone, having hastily thrown together a travelling backpack before escaping through the rooftop fire exit, which social services had been obviously unaware of.

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 **The present:**

Continuing to shiver Arnold glanced at his duffel bag, a sleeping bag, a couple keepsakes, an already dirty change of clothes, some rolled cigarettes and barely 20 dollars in change was all he had left.

A crack of thunder sounded and rain began to pour, Arnold glanced miserably across the empty park, he had little options left. He didn't want to go to an orphanage, but he knew he'd be in more trouble if he stayed on the streets, he'd already been attacked twice for his duffel bag (he'd just about managed to fight off both attempts).

Due to his drug induced loss of appetite, he hadn't eaten properly in three days which in some ways was a blessing as he'd spent less money on food.

Hearing footsteps in the rain, Arnold glanced to see an approaching passing male, cheeks burning red in shame, Arnold called as the guy walked past "Hey mister, spare some change for the homeless?". The man stopped, snorted and spat at the blonde, Arnold grimaced as saliva hit him square across the face.

The man laughed at Arnold before turning and continuing to walk away, knowing there'd be no point in causing a fight, Arnold angrily wiped the disgusting saliva off his face and grabbed his bag, shouldering it as he stared up dismally at the gathering storm clouds.

In his younger years he might have dwelled on the idea that the cold and the rain reflected his own depressive inner emotions, but currently none of that mattered.

All that mattered was that it was raining, it was raining and he desperately needed to find shelter.

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 **I'm currently unsure on whether this fic should be continued or remain as a oneshot. So liked, hated or indifferent, please review and comment whether you'd like this story to continue.**


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